"For the sake of the Emperor, calm down! None of you will escape like this!"
"Let go of ! Don't think I don't know what you're up to, trying to calm us down and sneak out yourself, right?"
Panic spread rapidly like a plague.
The speculators who had been hesitating and observing could no longer sit still.
They all stood up, the sound of chairs colliding with table legs echoed continuously.
People shoved each other, creating chaos, rushing towards the door as if a mont's delay would turn their life's fortune into nothing.
A wave of sell-offs triggered by panic thus began in a corner unnoticed... just like when this frenzied speculation first started.
However, contrary to the boiling panic inside the "Golden Griffin" café, the study in the Duke of Castellion Mansion was tranquil, as if no waves could shake this majestic castle.
Reclining on a velvet armchair, Andre leisurely sipped the rich red wine in his glass, his gaze resting on the newspaper spread out on the table.
It was today's "Holy City Daily."
Unlike yesterday, the dia's focus had shifted from the argunt between Sir Dantes and the bank director to the speculators flying beneath the pinnacle.
Looking at the magic photo of that dust-covered speculator, there wasn't a hint of sympathy on his face, even a mocking smile played at the corner of his lips, like he had just watched a thrilling circus act.
After a while, Andre sincerely expressed admiration, mumbling to himself at the forest outside the window.
"I didn't expect you to have this move prepared... it seems I underestimated you."
With his experience and insight, he had long since seen through everything. This young Prince Colin had even more sophisticated thods than he had imagined.
First, using false prosperity and great profit expectations, he raised land prices in the White Dew District to absurd heights, attracting those greedy countryside nobles and speculators; then, with a carefully planned "financing failure," he swiftly pulled the rug out, triggering market panic.
The true target of His Highness the Prince wasn't those trend-followers, but "middlen" like Baron Devor, who were greedy, aggressive, and stuck after swallowing large tracts of land.
This was a precise hunt.
He first used the power of rural nobles to complete land annexations, then discarded these soiled rags without a second thought.
He didn't even need to take direct action, instead using a distant relative as a pawn... evidently, from the very first day he stepped into the Holy City, he had planned this "chilling verbal brawl" for his departure.
As for those who got caught in the crossfire... Andre had no sympathy for them.
If they truly believed that land in the suburbs of the Holy City was a better investnt than in the city itself, then they should give up their positions to those "villagers who dream of moving in," and obediently leave themselves.
They didn't even realize that being born in this city was a great blessing... yet they aspired for more.
Andre laughed and shook his head in satisfaction, setting the wine glass down beside him.
Just then, the study door was flung open.
His young daughter, Miss Ophelia, like a startled fawn, ran in without the usual courtesy of knocking.
Her bright golden hair was slightly disheveled from the running, her fair cheeks full of anxiety, as if sothing serious had happened.
"What is it, my dear Ophelia, what's got you so flustered?" Andre teased, crossing his fingers upon his knee, affectionately facing his beloved daughter.
"Father!" Ophelia barely explained, slapping the "Holy City Daily" onto the table, anxiously pointing at the report, "Prince Colin is in trouble! How could that despicable bank director say such things about him! He's our ally, you... you must help him!"
Looking at his innocent daughter, Andre couldn't help but laugh heartily; yet after the laugh, he felt a tinge of discomfort, wondering why his darling daughter always had her thoughts on others.
He extended his broad palm, indulgently ruffling her hair.
"My dear Ophelia, you're too innocent. If you really want to capture His Highness's heart, you should first learn how to guide him to make sacrifices for you, rather than being so caught up in minor matters, eager to offer him your heart and soul."
This was Andre's own conclusion: whether gentleman or lady, all humans abide by one rule — people are predisposed to feel fondness towards those who have helped them, rather than gratitude towards those they have helped.
"I, I'm not... and what's so funny!" Ophelia stomped her foot in frustration, her face flushed with anger, completely at a loss as to why her father could still find amusent.
Were the promises of friendship on that farewell day nothing but pleasantries? She could not accept that her father was soone who said one thing and did another.
Unfortunately, she was still too young, having just co of age, struggling even to distinguish one matter from another, let alone understand the difference between promises.
If Colin couldn't handle this problem, it ant he wasn't worthy of being an ally to the Castelion family, let alone talk of friendship with them.
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